The Wandering Jew, v4 by Eugene Sue

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weight, and then laid it down upon the drawers with an air ofsatisfaction. Surprised at the long silence of Dagobert, the needlewomanfollowed his movements with timid and uneasy curiosity. But soon hersurprise gave way to fright, when she saw the soldier take down hisknapsack, place it upon a chair, open it, and draw from it a pair ofpocket-pistols, the locks of which he tried with the utmost caution.

Seized with terror, the sempstress could not forbear exclaiming: "Goodgracious, M. Dagobert! what are you going to do?"

The soldier looked at her as if he only now perceived her for the firsttime, and said to her in a cordial, but abrupt voice: "Good-evening, mygood girl! What is the time?"

"Eight o'clock has just struck at Saint-Mery's, M. Dagobert."

"Eight o'clock," said the soldier, speaking to himself; "only eight!"

Placing the pistols by the side of the iron bar, he appeared again toreflect, while he cast his eyes around him.

"M. Dagobert," ventured the girl, "you have not, then, good news?"

"No."

That single word was uttered by the soldier in so sharp a tone, that, notdaring to question him further, Mother Bunch sat down in silence. Spoil-sport came to lean his head on the knees of the girl, and followed themovements of Dagobert with as much curiosity as herself.

After remaining for some moments pensive and silent, the soldierapproached the bed, took a sheet from it, appeared to measure its length,and then said, turning towards Mother Bunch: "The scissors!"

"But, M. Dagobert--"

"Come, my good girl! the scissors!" replied Dagobert, in a kind tone, butone that commanded obedience. The sempstress took the scissors fromFrances' work-basket, and presented them to the soldier.

"Now, hold the other end of the sheet, my girl, and draw it out tight."

In a few minutes, Dagobert had cut the sheet into four strips, which hetwisted in the fashion of cords, fastening them here and there with bitsof tape, so as to preserve the twist, and tying them strongly together,so as to make a rope of about twenty feet long. This, however, did notsuffice him, for he said to himself: "Now I must have a hook."

Again he looked around him, and Mother Bunch, more and more frightened,for she now no longer doubted Dagobert's designs, said to him timidly:"M. Dagobert, Agricola has not yet come in. It may be some good newsthat makes him so late."

"Yes," said the soldier, bitterly, as he continued to cast round his eyesin search of something he wanted; "good news like mine! But I must havea strong iron hook."

Still looking about, he found one of the coarse, gray sacks, that Franceswas accustomed to make. He took it, opened it, and said to the work-girl: "Put me the iron bar and the cord into this bag, my girl. It willbe easier to carry."

"Heavens!" cried she, obeying his directions; "you will not go withoutseeing Agricola, M. Dagobert? He may perhaps have some good news to tellyou."

"Be satisfied! I shall wait for my boy. I need not start before teno'clock--so I have time."

"Alas, M. Dagobert! have you last all hope?"

"On the contrary. I have good hope--but in myself."

So saying, Dagobert twisted the upper end of the sack, for the purpose ofclosing it, and placed it on the drawers, by the side of his pistols.

"At all events, you will wait for Agricola, M. Dagobert?"

"Yes, if he arrives before ten o'clock."

"Alas; you have then quite made up your mind?"

"Quite. And yet, if I were weak enough to believe in bad omens--"

"Sometimes, M. Dagobert, omens do not deceive one," said the girl, hopingto induce the soldier to abandon his dangerous resolution.

"Yes," resumed Dagobert; "old women say so--and, although I am not an oldwoman, what I saw just now weighed heavily on my heart. After all, I mayhave taken a feeling of anger for a presentiment."

"What have you seen?"

"I will tell it you, my good girl; it may help to pass the time, whichappears long enough." Then, interrupting himself, he exclaimed: "Was itthe half hour that just struck?"

"Yes, M. Dagobert; it is half-past eight."

"Still an hour and a half," said Dagobert, in a hollow voice. "This," headded, "is what I saw. As I came along the street, my notice wasattracted by a large red placard, at the head of which was a blackpanther devouring a white horse. That sight gave me a turn, for you mustknow, my good girl, that a black panther destroyed a poor old white horsethat I had, Spoil-sport's companion, whose name was Jovial."

At the sound of this name, once so familiar, Spoil-sport, who wascrouching at the workwoman's feet, raised his head hastily, and looked atDagobert.

"You see that beasts have memory--he recollects," said the soldier,sighing himself at the remembrance. Then, addressing his dog he added:"Dost remember Jovial?"

On hearing this name a second time pronounced by his master, in a voiceof emotion, Spoil-sport gave a low whine, as if to indicate that he hadnot forgotten his old travelling companion.

"It was, indeed, a melancholy incident, M. Dagobert," said Mother Bunch,"to find upon this placard a panther devouring a horse."

"That is nothing to what's to come; you shall hear the rest. I drew nearthe bill, and read in it, that one Morok, just arrived from Germany, isabout to exhibit in a theatre different wild beasts that he tamed, amongothers a splendid lion, a tiger, and a black Java panther named Death."

"What an awful name!" said the hearer.

"You will think it more awful, my child, when I tell you, that this isthe very panther which strangled my horse at Leipsic, four months ago."

"Good Heaven! you are right, M. Dagobert," said the girl, "it is awful."

"Wait a little," said Dagobert, whose countenance was growing more andmore gloomy, "that is not all. It was by means of this very Morok, theowner of the panther, that I and my poor children were imprisoned inLeipsic."

"And this wicked man is in Paris, and wishes you evil?" said MotherBunch. "Oh! you are right, M. Dagobert; you must take care of yourself;it is a bad omen."

"For him, if I catch him," said Dagobert, in a hollow tone. "We have oldaccounts to settle."

"M. Dagobert," cried Mother Bunch, listening; "some one is running up thestairs. It is Agricola's footsteps. I am sure he has good news."

"That will just do," said the soldier, hastily, without answering."Agricola is a smith. He will be able to find me the iron hook."

A few moments after, Agricola entered the room; but, alas! the sempstressperceived at the first glance, in the dejected countenance of theworkman, the ruin of her cherished hopes.

"Well!" said Dagobert to his son, in a tone which clearly announced thelittle faith he attached to the steps taken by Agricola; "well, whatnews?"

"Father, it is enough to drive one mad--to make one dash one's brains outagainst the wall!" cried the smith in a rage.

"Well, father," cried Agricola; "have you seen the Court de Montbron?"

"The Count de Montbron set out for Lorraine three days ago. That is mygood news," continued the soldier, with bitter irony; "let us have yours--I long to know all. I need to know, if, on appealing to the laws,which, as you told me, protect and defend honest people, it ever happensthat the rogues get the best of it. I want to know this, and then I wantan iron hook--so I count upon you for both."

"What do you mean, father?"

"First, tell me what you have done. We have time. It is not much morethan half-past eight. On leaving me, where did you go first?"

"To the commissary, who had already received your depositions."

"What did he say to you?"

"After having very kindly listened to all I had to state, he answered,that these young girls were placed in a respectable house, a convent--sothat there did not appear any urgent necessity for their immediateremoval--and besides, he could not take upon himself to violate thesanctity of a religious dwelling upon your simple testimony; to-morrow,he will make his report to the proper authorities, and steps will betaken accordingly."

"Yes, yes--plenty of put offs," said the soldier.

"'But, sir,' answered I to him," resumed Agricola, "'it is now, this verynight, that you ought to act, for if these young girls should not bepresent to-morrow morning in the Rue Saint Francois, their interests maysuffer incalculable damage. 'I am very sorry for it,' replied he, 'but Icannot, upon your simple declaration, or that of your father, who--likeyourself--is no relation or connection of these young persons, act indirect opposition to forms, which could not be set aside, even on thedemand of a family. The law has its delays and its formalities, to whichwe are obliged to submit.'"

"Certainly!" said Dagobert. "We must submit to them, at the risk ofbecoming cowardly, ungrateful traitors!"

"Didst speak also of Mdlle. de Cardoville to him?" asked the work-girl.

"Yes--but he: answered me on this subject in much the same manner: 'Itwas very serious; there was no proof in support of my deposition. Athird party had told me that Mdlle. de Cardoville affirms she was notmad; but all mad people pretend to be sane. He could not, therefore,upon my sole testimony, take upon himself to enter the house of arespectable physician. But he would report upon it, and the law wouldhave its course--'"

"When I wished to act just now for myself," said Dagobert, "did I notforsee all this? And yet I was weak enough to listen to you."

"But, father, what you wished to attempt was impossible, and you agreedthat it would expose you to far too dangerous consequences."

"So," resumed the soldier, without answering his son, "they told you inplain terms, that we must not think of obtaining legally the release ofRose and Blanche this evening or even to-morrow morning?"

"Yes, father. In the eyes of the law, there is no special urgency. Thequestion may not be decided for two or three days."

"That is all I wished to know," said Dagobert, rising and walking up anddown the room.

"And yet," resumed his son, "I did not consider myself beaten. Indespair, but believing that justice could not remain deaf to suchequitable claims, I ran to the Palais de Justice, hoping to find there ajudge, a magistrate who would receive my complaint, and act upon it."

"Well?" said the soldier, stopping him.

"I was told that the courts shut every day at five o'clock, and do notopen again til ten in the morning. Thinking of your despair, and of theposition of poor Mdlle. de Cardoville, I determined to make one moreattempt. I entered a guard-house of troops of the line, commanded by alieutenant. I told him all. He saw that I was so much moved, and Ispoke with such warmth and conviction, that he became interested.--'Lieutenant,' said I to him, 'grant me one favor; let a petty officer andtwo soldiers go to the convent to obtain a legal entrance. Let them askto see the daughters of Marshal Simon, and learn whether it is theirchoice to remain, or return to my father, who brought them from Russia.You will then see if they are not detained against their will--'"

"And what answer did he give you, Agricola?" asked Mother Bunch, whileDagobert shrugged his shoulders, and continued to walk up and down.

"'My good fellow,' said he, 'what you ask me is impossible. I understandyour motives, but I cannot take upon myself so serious a measure. Ishould be broke were I to enter a convent by force.--'Then, sir, what amI to do? It is enough to turn one's head.'--'Faith, I don't know,' saidthe lieutenant; 'it will be safest, I think, to wait.'--Then, believing Ihad done all that was possible, father, I resolved to come back, in thehope that you might have been more fortunate than I--but, alas! I wasdeceived!"

So saying, the smith sank upon a chair, for he was worn out with anxietyand fatigue. There was a moment of profound silence after these words ofAgricola, which destroyed the last hopes of the three, mute and crushedbeneath the strokes of inexorable fatality.

A new incident came to deepen the sad and painful character of thisscene.

CHAPTER XI.

DISCOVERIES.

The door which Agricola had not thought of fastening opened, as it were,timidly, and Frances Baudoin, Dagobert's wife, pale, sinking, hardly ableto support herself, appeared on the threshold.

The soldier, Agricola, and Mother Bunch, were plunged in such deepdejection, that neither of them at first perceived the entrance. Francesadvanced two steps into the room, fell upon her knees, clasped her handstogether, and said in a weak and humble voice; "My poor husband--pardon!"

At these words, Agricola and the work-girl--whose backs were towards thedoor--turned round suddenly, and Dagobert hastily raised his head.

"My mother!" cried Agricola, running to Frances.

"My wife!" cried Dagobert, as he also rose, and advanced to meet theunfortunate woman.

"No, my child," said Frances, in her mild, firm accents, "I will notrise, till your father has forgiven me. I have wronged him much--now Iknow it."

"Forgive you, my poor wife?" said the soldier, as he drew near withemotion. "Have I ever accused you, except in my first transport ofdespair? No, no; it was the bad priests that I accused, and there I wasright. Well! I have you again," added he, assisting his son to raiseFrances; "one grief the less. They have then restored you to liberty?Yesterday, I could not even learn in what prison they had put you. Ihave so many cares that I could not think of you only. But come, dearwife: sit down!"

"Why did you not let us know?" added he. "We would have gone to fetchyou. But how you tremble! Your hands are frozen!" continued the smith,as he knelt down before Frances. Then, turning towards Mother Bunch:"Pray, make a little fire directly."

"I thought of it, as soon as your father came in, Agricola, but there isno wood nor charcoal left."

Hardly had he said the words, than Mother Bunch went out. The smith rosefrom the ground, took the blanket from the bed, and carefully wrapped itabout the knees and feet of his mother. Then, again kneeling down, hesaid to her: "Your hands, dear mother!" and, taking those feeble palms inhis own, he tried to warm them with his breath.

Nothing could be more touching than this picture: the robust young man,with his energetic and resolute countenance, expressing by his looks thegreatest tenderness, and paying the most delicate attentions to his poor,pale, trembling old mother.

Dagobert, kind-hearted as his son, went to fetch a pillow, and brought itto his wife, saying: "Lean forward a little, and I will put this pillowbehind you; you will be more comfortable and warmer."

"How you both spoil me!" said Frances, trying to smile. "And you to beso kind, after all the ill I have done!" added she to Dagobert, as,disengaging one of her hands from those of her son, she took thesoldier's hand and pressed it to her tearful eyes. "In prison," said shein a low voice, "I had time to repent."

Agricola's heart was near breaking at the thought that his pious and goodmother, with her angelic purity, should for a moment have been confinedin prison with so many miserable creatures. He would have made someattempt to console her on the subject of the painful past, but he fearedto give a new shock to Dagobert, and was silent.

"Where is Gabriel, dear mother?" inquired he. "How is he? As you haveseen him, tell us all about him."

"I have seen Gabriel," said Frances, drying her tears; "he is confined athome. His superiors have rigorously forbidden his going out. Luckily,they did not prevent his receiving me, for his words and counsels haveopened my eyes to many things. It is from him that I learned how guiltyI had been to you, my poor husband."

"How so?" asked Dagobert.

"Why, you know that if I caused you so much grief, it was not fromwickedness. When I saw you in such despair, I suffered almost as muchmyself; but I durst not tell you so, for fear of breaking my oath. I hadresolved to keep it, believing that I did well, believing that it was myduty. And yet something told me that it could not be my duty to causeyou so much pain. 'Alas, my God! enlighten me!' I exclaimed in myprison, as I knelt down and prayed, in spite of the mockeries of theother women. 'Why should a just and pious work, commanded by myconfessor, the most respectable of men, overwhelm me and mine with somuch misery? 'Have mercy on me, my God, and teach me if I have donewrong without knowing it!' As I prayed with fervor, God heard me, andinspired me with the idea of applying to Gabriel. 'I thank Thee, Father!I will obey!' said I within myself. 'Gabriel is like my own child; buthe is also a priest, a martyr--almost a saint. If any one in the worldimitates the charity of our blessed Saviour, it is surely he. When Ileave this prison, I will go and consult him and he will clear up mydoubts.'"

"You are right, dear mother," cried Agricola; "it was a thought fromheaven. Gabriel is an angel of purity, courage, nobleness--the type ofthe true and good priest!"

"Ah, poor wife!" said Dagobert, with bitterness; "if you had never hadany confessor but Gabriel!"

"I thought of it before he went on his journey," said Frances, withsimplicity. "I should have liked to confess to the dear boy--but Ifancied Abbe Dubois would be offended, and that Gabriel would be tooindulgent with regard to my sins.

"Alas, my dear! had I but had such an interview with him sooner! What Itold him of Abbe Dubois roused his suspicions, and he questioned me, dearchild, as to many things of which he had never spoken to me before. ThenI opened to him my whole heart, and he did the same to me, and we bothmade sad discoveries with regard to persons whom we had always thoughtvery respectable, and who yet had deceived each of us, unknown to theother."

"How so?"

"Why, they used to tell him, under the seal of secrecy, things that weresupposed to come from me; and they used to tell me, under the same sealof secrecy, things that were supposed to come from him. Thus, heconfessed to me, that he did not feel at first any vocation for thepriesthood; but they told him that I should not believe myself safe inthis world or in the next, if he did not take orders, because I feltpersuaded that I could best serve the Lord by giving Him so good aservant; and that yet I had never dared to ask Gabriel himself to give methis proof of his attachment, though I had taken him from the street, adeserted orphan, and brought him up as my own son, at the cost of laborand privations. Then, how could it be otherwise? The poor dear child,thinking he could please me, sacrificed himself. He entered theseminary."

"Horrible," said Agricola; "'tis an infamous snare, and, for the priestswho were guilty of it, a sacrilegious lie!"

"During all that time," resumed Frances, "they were holding verydifferent language to me. I was told that Gabriel felt his vocation, butthat he durst not avow it to me, for fear of my being jealous on accountof Agricola, who, being brought up as a workman, would not enjoy the sameadvantages as those which the priesthood would secure to Gabriel. Sowhen he asked my permission to enter the seminary dear child! he enteredit with regret, but he thought he was making me so happy!--instead ofdiscouraging this idea, I did all in my power to persuade him to followit, assuring him that he could not do better, and that it would occasionme great joy. You understand, I exaggerated, for fear he should think mejealous on account of Agricola."

"What an odious machination!" said Agricola, in amazement. "They werespeculating in this unworthy manner upon your mutual devotion. ThusGabriel saw the expression of your dearest wish in the almost forcedencouragement given to his resolution."

"Little by little, however, as Gabriel has the best heart in the world,the vocation really came to him. That was natural enough--he was born toconsole those who suffer, and devote himself for the unfortunate. Hewould never have spoken to me of the past, had it not been for thismorning's interview. But then I beheld him, who is usually so mild andgentle, become indignant, exasperated, against M. Rodin and anotherperson whom he accuses. He had serious complaints against them already,but these discoveries, he says, will make up the measure."

At these words of Frances, Dagobert pressed his hand to his forehead, asif to recall something to his memory. For some minutes he had listenedwith surprise, and almost terror, to the account of these secret plots,conducted with such deep and crafty dissimulation.

Frances continued: "When at last I acknowledged to Gabriel, that by theadvice of Abbe Dubois, my confessor, I had delivered to a stranger thechildren confined to my husband--General Simon's daughters--the dear boyblamed me, though with great regret, not for having wished to instructthe poor orphans in the truths of our holy religion, but for having actedwithout the consent of my husband, who alone was answerable before Godand man for the charge entrusted to him. Gabriel severely censured AbbeDubois' conduct, who had given me, he said, bad and perfidious counsels;and then, with the sweetness of an angel, the dear boy consoled me, andexhorted me to come and tell you all. My poor husband! he would fainhave accompanied me, for I had scarcely courage to come hither, sostrongly did I feel the wrong I had done you; but, unfortunately, Gabrielis confined at the seminary by the strict order of his superiors; hecould not come with me, and--"

Here Dagobert, who seemed much agitated, abruptly interrupted his wife."One word, Frances," said he; "for, in truth, in the midst of so manycares, and black, diabolical plots, one loses one's memory, and the headbegins to wander. Didst not tell me, the day the children disappeared,that Gabriel, when taken in by you, had round his neck a bronze medal,and in his pocket a book filled with papers in a foreign language?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And this medal and these papers were afterwards delivered to yourconfessor?"

"Yes, my dear."

"And Gabriel never spoke of them since?"

"Never."

Agricola, hearing this from his mother, looked at her with surprise, andexclaimed: "Then Gabriel has the same interest as the daughters ofGeneral Simon, or Mdlle. de Cardoville, to be in the Rue Saint-Francoisto-morrow?"

"Certainly," said Dagobert. "And now do you remember what he said to us,just after my arrival--that, in a few days, he would need our support ina serious matter?"

"Yes, father."

"And he is kept a prisoner at his seminary! And he tells your motherthat he has to complain of his superiors! and he asked us for our supportwith so sad and grave an air, that I said to him--"

"He would speak so, if about to engage in a deadly duel," interruptedAgricola. "True, father! and yet you, who are a good judge of valor,acknowledged that Gabriel's courage was equal to yours. For him so tofear his superiors, the danger must be great indeed."

"Now that I have heard your mother, I understand it all," said Dagobert."Gabriel is like Rose and Blanche, like Mdlle. de Cardoville, like yourmother, like all of us, perhaps--the victim of a secret conspiracy ofwicked priests. Now that I know their dark machinations, their infernalperseverance, I see," added the soldier, in a whisper, "that it requiresstrength to struggle against them. I had not the least idea of theirpower."

"You are right, father; for those who are hypocritical and wicked do asmuch harm as those who are good and charitable, like Gabriel, do good.There is no more implacable enemy than a bad priest."

"I know it, and that's what frightens me; for my poor children are intheir hands. But is all lost? Shall I bring myself to give them upwithout an effort? Oh, no, no! I will not show any weakness--and yet,since your mother told us of these diabolical plots, I do not know how itis but I seem less strong, less resolute. What is passing around meappears so terrible. The spiriting away of these children is no longeran isolated fact--it is one of the ramifications of a vast conspiracy,which surrounds and threatens us all. It seems to me as if I and those Ilove walked together in darkness, in the midst of serpents, in the midstof snares that we can neither see nor struggle against. Well! I'llspeak out! I have never feared death--I am not a coward and yet Iconfess--yes, I confess it--these black robes frighten me--"

Dagobert pronounced these words in so sincere a tone, that his sonstarted, for he shared the same impression. And it was quite natural.Frank, energetic, resolute characters, accustomed to act and fight in thelight of day, never feel but one fear--and that is, to be ensnared andstruck in the dark by enemies that escape their grasp. Thus, Dagoberthad encountered death twenty times; and yet, on hearing his wife's simplerevelation of this dark tissue of lies, and treachery, and crime, thesoldier felt a vague sense of fear; and, though nothing was changed inthe conditions of his nocturnal enterprise against the convent, it nowappeared to him in a darker and more dangerous light.

The silence, which had reigned for some moments, was interrupted byMother Bunch's return. The latter, knowing that the interview betweenDagobert, his wife, and Agricola, ought not have any importunate witness,knocked lightly at the door, and remained in the passage with FatherLoriot.

"Yes, yes; come in, my good girl," said Agricola, whilst his father wipedthe cold sweat from his forehead.

The door opened, and the worthy dyer appeared, with his hands and arms ofan amaranthine color; on one side, he carried a basket of wood, and onthe other some live coal in a shovel.

"Good-evening to the company!" said Daddy Loriot. "Thank you for havingthought of me, Mme. Frances. You know that my shop and everything in itare at your service. Neighbors should help one another; that's my motto!You were kind enough, I should think, to my late wife!"

Then, placing the wood in a corner, and giving the shovel to Agricola,the worthy dyer, guessing from the sorrowful appearance of the differentactors in this scene, that it would be impolite to prolong his visit,added: "You don't want anything else, Mme. Frances?"

"No, thank you, Father Loriot."

"Then, good-evening to the company!" said the dyer; and, addressingMother Bunch, he added: "Don't forget the letter for M. Dagobert. Idurstn't touch it for fear of leaving the marks of my four fingers andthumb in amaranthine! But, good evening to the company!" and FatherLoriot went out.

"M. Dagobert, here is a letter," said Mother Bunch. She set herself tolight the fire in the stove, while Agricola drew his mother's arm-chairto the hearth.

"See what it is, my boy," said Dagobert to his son; "my head is so heavythat I cannot see clear." Agricola took the letter, which contained onlya few lines, and read it before he looked at the signature.

"At Sea, December 25th, 1831.

"I avail myself of a few minutes' communication with a ship bound direct for Europe, to write to you, my old comrade, a few hasty lines, which will reach you probably by way of Havre, before the arrival of my last letters from India. You must by this time be at Paris, with my wife and child--tell them--

"I am unable to say more--the boat is departing. Only one word; I shall soon be in France. Do not forget the 13th February; the future of my wife and child depends upon it.

"Adieu, my friend! Believe in my eternal gratitude.

"SIMON."

"Agricola--quick! look to your father!" cried the hunchback.

From the first words of this letter, which present circumstances made socruelly applicable, Dagobert had become deadly pale. Emotion, fatigue,exhaustion, joined to this last blow, made him stagger.

His son hastened to him, and supported him in his arms. But soon themomentary weakness passed away, and Dagobert, drawing his hand across hisbrow, raised his tall figure to its full height. Then, whilst his eyesparkled, his rough countenance took an expression of determinedresolution, and he exclaimed, in wild excitement: "No, no! I will not bea traitor; I will not be a coward. The black robes shall not frightenme; and, this night, Rose and Blanche Simon shall be free!"

CHAPTER XII.

THE PENAL CODE.

Startled for a moment by the dark and secret machinations of the blackrobes, as he called them, against the persons he most loved, Dagobertmight have hesitated an instant to attempt the deliverance of Rose andBlanche; but his indecision ceased directly on the reading of MarshalSimon's letter, which came so timely to remind him of his sacred duties.

To the soldier's passing dejection had succeeded a resolution full ofcalm and collected energy.

"Agricola, what o'clock is it?" asked he of his son.

"Just struck nine, father."

"You must make me, directly, an iron hook--strong enough to support myweight, and wide enough to hold on the coping of a wall. This stove willbe forge and anvil; you will find a hammer in the house; and, for iron,"said the soldier, hesitating, and looking around him, "as for iron--hereis some!"

So saying, the soldier took from the hearth a strong pair of tongs, andpresented them to his son, adding: "Come, my boy! blow up the fire, blowit to a white heat, and forge me this iron!"

On these words, Frances and Agricola looked at each other with surprise;the smith remained mute and confounded, not knowing the resolution of hisfather, and the preparations he had already commenced with theneedlewoman's aid.

"Don't you hear me, Agricola," repeated Dagobert, still holding the pairof tongs in his hand; "you must make me a hook directly."

"A hook, father?--for what purpose?"

"To tie to the end of a cord that I have here. There must be a loop atone end large enough to fix it securely."

The soldier, forseeing that he would have to contend with observationsand prayers of all sorts, and resolved not to yield, determined to cutshort all useless supplications, which would only make him lose precioustime. He said, therefore, with a grave, severe, and almost solemn air,which showed the inflexibility of his determination: "Listen to me, wife--and you also, my son--when, at my age, a man makes up his mind to doanything, he knows the reason why. And when a man has once made up hismind, neither wife nor child can alter it. I have resolved to do myduty; so spare yourselves useless words. It may be your duty to talk tome as you have done; but it is over now, and we will say no more aboutit. This evening I must be master in my own house."

Timid and alarmed, Frances did not dare to utter a word, but she turned asupplicating glance towards her son.

"Father," said the latter, "one word more--only one."

"Let us hear," replied Dagobert, impatiently.

"I will not combat your resolution; but I will prove to you that you donot know to what you expose yourself."

"I know it all," replied the soldier, in an abrupt tone. "Theundertaking is a serious one; but it shall not be said that I neglectedany means to accomplish what I promised to do."

"But father, you do not know to what danger you expose yourself," saidthe smith, much alarmed.

"Talk of danger! talk of the porter's gun and the gardener's scythe!"said Dagobert, shrugging his shoulders contemptuously. "Talk of them,and have done with it for, after all, suppose I were to leave my carcassin the convent, would not you remain to your mother? For twenty years,you were accustomed to do without me. It will be all the less trying toyou."

"And I, alas! am the cause of these misfortunes!" cried the poor mother."Ah! Gabriel had good reason to blame me."

"Mme. Frances, be comforted," whispered the sempstress, who had drawnnear to Dagobert's wife. "Agricola will not suffer his father to exposehimself thus."

After a moment's hesitation, the smith resumed, in an agitated voice: "Iknow you too well, father, to think of stopping you by the fear ofdeath."

"Of what danger, then, do you speak?"

"Of a danger from which even you will shrink, brave as you are," said theyoung man, in a voice of emotion, that forcibly struck his father.

"Agricola," said the soldier, roughly and severely, "that remark iscowardly, you are insulting."

"Father--"

"Cowardly! resumed the soldier, angrily; "because it is cowardice to wishto frighten a man from his duty--insulting! because you think me capableof being so frightened."

"Oh, M. Dagobert!" exclaimed the sewing-girl, "you do not understandAgricola."

"I understand him too well," answered the soldier harshly.

Painfully affected by the severity of his father, but firm in hisresolution, which sprang from love and respect, Agricola resumed, whilsthis heart beat violently. "Forgive me, if I disobey you, father; but,were you to hate me for it, I must tell you to what you expose yourselfby scaling at night the walls of a convent--"

"Not one word more!" replied the soldier, stamping his foot with anger.

"I tell you, father," exclaimed the smith, growing fearfully pale as hespoke, "that you risk being sent to the galleys!"

"Unhappy boy!" cried Dagobert, seizing his son by the arm; "could you notkeep that from me--rather than expose me to become a traitor and acoward?" And the soldier shuddered, as he repeated: "The galleys!"--and,bending down his head, remained mute, pensive, withered, as it were, bythose blasting words.

"Yes, to enter an inhabited place by night, in such a manner, is what thelaw calls burglary, and punishes with the galleys," cried Agricola, atonce grieved and rejoicing at his father's depression of mind--"yes,father, the galleys, if you are taken in the act; and there are tenchances to one that you would be so. Mother Bunch has told you, theconvent is guarded. This morning, had you attempted to carry off the twoyoung ladies in broad daylight, you would have been arrested; but, atleast, the attempt would have been an open one, with a character ofhonest audacity about it, that hereafter might have procured youracquittal. But to enter by night, and by scaling the walls--I tell you,the galleys would be the consequence. Now, father, decide. Whatever youdo, I will do also--for you shall not go alone. Say but the word, and Iwill forge the hook for you--I have here hammer and pincers--and in anhour we will set out."

A profound silence followed these words--a silence that was onlyinterrupted by the stifled sobs of Frances, who muttered to herself indespair: "Alas! this is the consequence of listening to Abbe Dubois!"

It was in vain that Mother Bunch tried to console Frances. She washerself alarmed, for the soldier was capable of braving even infamy, andAgricola had determined to share the perils of his father.

In spite of his energetic and resolute character, Dagobert remained forsome time in a kind of stupor. According to his military habits, he hadlooked at this nocturnal enterprise only as a ruse de guerre, authorizedby his good cause, and by the inexorable fatality of his position; butthe words of his son brought him back to the fearful reality, and lefthim the choice of a terrible alternative--either to betray the confidenceof Marshal Simon, and set at naught the last wishes of the mother of theorphan--or else to expose himself, and above all his son, to lastingdisgrace--without even the certainty of delivering the orphans after all.

Drying her eyes, bathed in tears, Frances exclaimed, as if by a suddeninspiration: "Dear me! I have just thought of it. There is perhaps a wayof getting these dear children from the convent without violence."

"How so, mother?" said Agricola, hastily.

"It is Abbe Dubois, who had them conveyed thither; but Gabriel supposes,that he probably acted by the advice of M. Rodin.

"And if that were so, mother, it would be in vain to apply to M. Rodin.We should get nothing from him."

"Not from him--but perhaps from that powerful abbe, who is Gabriel'ssuperior, and has always patronized him since his first entrance at theseminary."

"What abbe, mother?"

"Abbe d'Aigrigny."

"True mother; before being a priest, he was a soldier he may be moreaccessible than others--and yet--"

"D'Aigrigny!" cried Dagobert, with an expression of hate and horror."There is then mixed up with these treasons, a man who was a soldierbefore being a priest, and whose name is D'Aigrigny?"

"Yes, father; the Marquis d'Aigrigny--before the Restoration, in theservice of Russia--but, in 1815, the Bourbons gave him a regiment."

"It is he!" said Dagobert, in a hollow voice. "Always the same! like anevil spirit--to the mother, father, children."

"What do you mean, father?"

"The Marquis d'Aigrigny!" replied Dagobert. "Do you know what is thisman? Before he was a priest, he was the murderer of Rose and Blanche'smother, because she despised his love. Before he was a priest, he foughtagainst his country, and twice met General Simon face to face in war.Yes; while the general was prisoner at Leipsic, covered with wounds atWaterloo, the turncoat marquis triumphed with the Russians and English!--Under the Bourbons, this same renegade, loaded with honors, found himselfonce more face to face with the persecuted soldier of the empire.Between them, this time, there was a mortal duel--the marquis waswounded--General Simon was proscribed, condemned, driven into exile. Therenegade, you say, has become a priest. Well! I am now certain, that itis he who has carried off Rose and Blanche, in order to wreak on them hishatred of their father and mother. It is the infamous D'Aigrigny, whoholds them in his power. It is no longer the fortune of these childrenthat I have to defend; it is their life--do you hear what I say?--theirvery life?"

"What, father! do you think this man capable--"

"A traitor to his country, who finishes by becoming a mock priest, iscapable of anything. I tell you, that, perhaps at this moment he may bekilling those children by a slow-fire!" exclaimed the soldier, in a voiceof agony. "To separate them from one another was to begin to kill them.Yes!" added Dagobert, with an exasperation impossible to describe; "thedaughters of Marshal Simon are in the power of the Marquis d'Aigrigny andhis band, and I hesitate to attempt their rescue, for fear of thegalleys! The galleys!" added he, with a convulsive burst of laughter;"what do I care for the galleys? Can they send a corpse there? If thislast attempt fail, shall I not have the right to blow my brains out?--Putthe iron in the fire, my boy--quick! time presses--and strike while theiron's hot!"

"But your son goes with you!" exclaimed Frances, with a cry of maternaldespair. Then rising, she threw herself at the feet of Dagobert, andsaid: "If you are arrested, he will be arrested also."

"To escape the galleys, he will do as I do. I have two pistols."

"And without you--without him," cried the unhappy mother, extending herhands in supplication, "what will become of me?"

"You are right--I was too selfish," said Dagobert. "I will go alone."

"You shall not go alone, father," replied Agricola.

"But your mother?"

"Mother Bunch sees what is passing; she will go to Mr. Hardy, my master,and tell him all. He is the most generous of men, and my mother willhave food and shelter for the rest of her days."

"And I am the cause of all!" cried Frances, wringing her hands indespair. "Punish me, oh, heaven! for it is my fault. I gave up thosechildren. I shall be punished by the death of my child!"

"Agricola, you shall not go with me--I forbid it!" said Dagobert,clasping his son closely to his breast.

"What! when I have pointed out the danger, am I to be the first to shrinkfrom it? you cannot think thus lowly of me, father! Have I not also someone to deliver? The good, the generous Mdlle. de Cardoville, who triedto save me from a prison, is a captive in her turn. I will follow you,father. It is my right, my duty, my determination."

So saying, Agricola put into the heated stove the tongs that wereintended to form the hook. "Alas! may heaven have pity upon us!" criedhis poor mother, sobbing as she still knelt, whilst the soldier seemed aprey to the most violent internal struggle.

"Do not cry so, dear mother; you will break my heart," said Agricola, ashe raised her with the sempstress's help. "Be comforted! I haveexaggerated the danger of my father. By acting prudently, we two maysucceed in our enterprise; without much risk--eh, father?" added he, witha significant glance at Dagobert. "Once more, be comforted, dear mother.I will answer for everything. We will deliver Marshal Simon's daughters,and Mdlle. de Cardoville too. Sister, give me the hammer and pincers,there in the press."

The sempstress, drying her tears, did as desired, while Agricola, by thehelp of bellows, revived the fire in which the tongs were heating.

"Here are your tools, Agricola," said the hunchback, in a deeply-agitatedvoice, as she presented them with trembling hands to the smith, who, withthe aid of the pincers, soon drew from the fire the white-hot tongs, and,with vigorous blows of the hammer, formed them into a hook, taking thestove for his anvil.

Dagobert had remained silent and pensive. Suddenly he said to Frances,taking her by the hand: "You know what metal your son is. To prevent hisfollowing me would now be impossible. But do not be afraid, dear wife;we shall succeed--at least, I hope so. And if we should not succeed--ifAgricola and me should be arrested--well! we are not cowards; we shallnot commit suicide; but father and son will go arm in arm to prison, withheads high and proud, look like two brave men who have done their duty.The day of trial must come, and we will explain all, honestly, openly--wewill say, that, driven to the last extremity, finding no support, noprotection in the law, we were forced to have recourse to violence. Sohammer away, my boy!" added Dagobert, addressing his son, pounding thehot iron; "forge, forge, without fear. Honest judges will absolve honestmen."

"Yes, father, you are right, be at ease dear mother! The judges will seethe difference between rascals who scale walls in order to rob, and anold soldier and his son who, at peril of their liberty, their life, theirhonor, have sought only to deliver unhappy victims."

"And if this language should not be heard," resumed Dagobert, "so muchthe worse for them! It will not be your son, or husband, who will bedishonored in the eyes of honest people. If they send us to the galleys,and we have courage to survive--the young and the old convict will weartheir chains proudly--and the renegade marquis, the traitor priest, willbear more shame than we. So, forge without fear, my boy! There arethings which the galleys themselves cannot disgrace--our good conscienceand our honor! But now," he added, "two words with my good Mother Bunch.It grows late, and time presses. On entering the garden, did you remarkif the windows of the convent were far from the ground?"

"No, not very far, M. Dagobert--particularly on that side which isopposite to the madhouse, where Mdlle. de Cardoville is confined."

"How did you manage to speak to that young lady?"

"She was on the other side of an open paling, which separates the twogardens."

"Excellent!" said Agricola, as he continued to hammer the iron: "we caneasily pass from one garden to the other. The madhouse may perhaps bethe readier way out. Unfortunately, you do not know, Mdlle. deCardoville's chamber."

"Yes, I do," returned the work-girl, recollecting herself. "She islodged in one of the wings, and there is a shade over her window, paintedlike canvas, with blue and white stripes."

"Good! I shall not forget that."

"And can you form no guess as to where are the rooms of my poorchildren?" said Dagobert.

After a moment's reflection, Mother Bunch answered, "They are opposite tothe chamber occupied by Mdlle. de Cardoville, for she makes signs to themfrom her window: and I now remember she told me, that their two rooms areon different stories, one on the ground-floor, and the other up one pairof stairs."

"Are these windows grated?" asked the smith.

"I do not know."

"Never mind, my good girl: with these indications we shall do very well,"said Dagobert. "For the rest, I have my plans."

For some time, Frances Baudoin had remained upon her knees, praying withfervor. She implored Heaven to have pity on Agricola and Dagobert, who,in their ignorance, were about to commit a great crime; and she entreatedthat the celestial vengeance might fall upon her only, as she alone hadbeen the cause of the fatal resolution of her son and husband.

Dagobert and Agricola finished their preparations in silence. They wereboth very pale, and solemnly grave. They felt all the danger of sodesperate an enterprise.

The clock at Saint-Mery's struck ten. The sound of the bell was faint,and almost drowned by the lashing of the wind and rain, which had notceased for a moment.

"Ten o'clock!" said Dagobert, with a start. "There is not a minute tolose. Take the sack, Agricola."

"Yes, father."

As he went to fetch the sack, Agricola approached Mother Bunch, who washardly able to sustain herself, and said to her in a rapid whisper: "Ifwe are not here to-morrow, take care of my mother. Go to M. Hardy, whowill perhaps have returned from his journey. Courage, my sister! embraceme. I leave poor mother to you." The smith, deeply affected, pressedthe almost fainting girl in his arms.

"Come, old Spoil-sport," said Dagobert: "you shall be our scout."Approaching his wife, who, just risen from the ground, was clasping herson's head to her bosom, and covering it with tears and kisses, he saidto her, with a semblance of calmness and serenity: "Come, my dear wife,be reasonable! Make us a good fire. In two or three hours we will bringhome the two poor children, and a fine young lady. Kiss me! that willbring me luck."

Frances threw herself on her husband's neck, without uttering a word.This mute despair, mingled with convulsive sobs, was heart-rending.Dagobert was obliged to tear himself from his wife's arms, and strivingto conceal his emotion, he said to his son, in an agitated voice: "Let usgo--she unmans me. Take care of her, my good Mother Bunch. Agricola--come!"

The soldier slipped the pistols into the pocket of his great coat, andrushed towards the door, followed by Spoil-sport.

"My son, let me embrace you once more--alas! it is perhaps for the lasttime!" cried the unfortunate mother, incapable of rising, but stretchingout her arms to Agricola. "Forgive me! it is all my fault."

The smith turned back, mingled his tears with those of his mother--for healso wept--and murmured, in a stifled voice: "Adieu, dear mother! Becomforted. We shall soon meet again."

Then, escaping from the embrace, he joined his father upon the stairs.

Frances Baudoin heaved a long sigh, and fell almost lifeless into theneedlewoman's arms.

Dagobert and Agricola left the Rue Brise-Miche in the height of thestorm, and hastened with great strides towards the Boulevard del'Hopital, followed by the dog.

CHAPTER XIII.

BURGLARY.

Half-past eleven had just struck, when Dagobert and his son arrived onthe Boulevard de l'Hopital.

The wind blew violently, and the rain fell down in torrents, butnotwithstanding the thickness of the watery clouds, it was tolerablylight, thanks to the late rising of the moon. The tall, dark trees, andthe white walls of the convent garden, were distinguishable in the midstof the pale glimmer. Afar off, a street lamp, acted on by the wind, withits red lights hardly visible through the mist and rain, swung backwardsand forwards over the dirty causeway of the solitary boulevard.

At rare intervals, they heard, at a very great distance, the rattle andrumble of a coach, returning home late; then all was again silent.

Since their departure from the Rue Brise-Miche, Dagobert and his son hadhardly exchanged a word. The design of these two brave men was noble andgenerous, and yet, resolute but pensive, they glided through the darknesslike bandits, at the hour of nocturnal crimes.

Agricola carried on his shoulders the sack containing the cord, the hook,and the iron bar; Dagobert leaned upon the arm of his son, and Spoil-sport followed his master.

"The bench, where we sat down, must be close by," said Dagobert,stopping.

"Yes," said Agricola, looking around; "here it is, father.""It is oily half-past eleven--we must wait for midnight," resumedDagobert. "Let us be seated for an instant, to rest ourselves, anddecide upon our plan."

After a moment's silence, the soldier took his son's hands between hisown, and thus continued: "Agricola, my child--it is yet time. Let me goalone, I entreat you. I shall know very well how to get through thebusiness; but the nearer the moment comes, the more I fear to drag youinto this dangerous enterprise."

"And the nearer the moment comes, father, the more I feel I may be ofsome use; but, be it good or bad, I will share the fortune of youradventure. Our object is praiseworthy; it is a debt of honor that youhave to pay, and I will take one half of it. Do not fancy that I willnow draw back. And so, dear father, let us think of our plan of action."

"Then you will come?" said Dagobert, stifling a sigh.

"We must do everything," proceeded Agricola, "to secure success. Youhave already noticed the little garden-door, near the angle of the wall--that is excellent."

"We shall get by that way into the garden, and look immediately for theopen paling."

"Yes; for on one side of this paling is the wing inhabited by Mdlle. deCardoville, and on the other that part of the convent in which thegeneral's daughters are confined."

At this moment, Spoil-sport, who was crouching at Dagobert's feet, rosesuddenly, and pricked up his ears, as if to listen.

"One would think that Spoil-sport heard something," said Agricola. Theylistened--but heard only the wind, sounding through the tall trees of theboulevard.

"Now I think of it, father--when the garden-door is once open, shall wetake Spoil-sport with us?"

"Yes; for if there is a watch-dog, he will settle him. And then he willgive us notice of the approach of those who go the rounds. Besides, heis so intelligent, so attached to Rose and Blanche, that (who knows?) hemay help to discover the place where they are. Twenty times I have seenhim find them in the woods, by the most extraordinary instinct."

A slow and solemn knell here rose above the noise of the wind: it was thefirst stroke of twelve.

That note seemed to echo mournfully through the souls of Agricola and hisfather. Mute with emotion, they shuddered, and by a spontaneousmovement, each grasped the hand of the other. In spite of themselves,their hearts kept time to every stroke of the clock, as each successivevibration was prolonged through the gloomy silence of the night.

At the last strobe, Dagobert said to his son, in a firm voice: "It ismidnight. Shake hands, and let us forward!"

The moment was decisive and solemn. "Now, father," said Agricola, "wewill act with as much craft and daring as thieves going to pillage astrong box."

So saying, the smith took from the sack the cord and hook; Dagobert armedhimself with the iron bar, and both advanced cautiously, following thewall in the direction of the little door, situated not far from the angleformed by the street and the boulevard. They stopped from time to time,to listen attentively, trying to distinguish those noises which were notcaused either by the high wind or the rain.

It continued light enough for them to be able to see surrounding objects,and the smith and the soldier soon gained the little door, which appearedmuch decayed, and not very strong.

"Good!" said Agricola to his father. "It will yield at one blow."

The smith was about to apply his shoulder vigorously to the door, whenSpoil-sport growled hoarsely, and made a "point." Dagobert silenced thedog with a word, and grasping his son's arm, said to him in a whisper:"Do not stir. The dog has scented some one in the garden."

Agricola and his father remained for some minutes motionless, holdingtheir breath and listening. The dog, in obedience to his master, nolonger growled, but his uneasiness and agitation were displayed more andmore. Yet they heard nothing.

"The dog must have been deceived, father," whispered Agricola.

"I am sure of the contrary. Do not move."

After some seconds of expectation, Spoil-sport crouched down abruptly,and pushed his nose as far as possible under the door, snuffling up theair.

"They are coming," said Dagobert hastily, to his son.

"Let us draw off a little distance," replied Agricola.

"No," said his father; "we must listen. It will be time to retire, ifthey open the door. Here, Spoil-sport! down!"

The dog obeyed, and withdrawing from the door, crouched down at the feetof his master. Some seconds after, they heard a sort of splashing on thedamp ground, caused by heavy footsteps in puddles of water, and then thesound of words, which carried away by the wind, did not reach distinctlythe ears of the soldier and the smith.

"They are the people of whom Mother Bunch told us, going their round,"said Agricola to his father.

"So much the better. There will be an interval before they come roundagain, and we shall have some two hours before us, without interruption.Our affair is all right now."

By degrees, the sound of the footsteps became less and less distinct, andat last died away altogether.

"Now, quick! we must not lose any time," said Dagobert to his son, afterwaiting about ten minutes; "they are far enough. Let us try to open thedoor."

Agricola leaned his powerful shoulder against it, and pushed vigorously;but the door did not give way, notwithstanding its age.

"Confound it!" said Agricola; "there is a bar on the inside. I am sureof it, or these old planks would not have resisted my weight."

"What is to be done?"

"I will scale the wall by means of the cord and hook, and open the doorfrom the other side."

So saying, Agricola took the cord, and after several attempts, succeededin fixing the hook on the coping of the wall.

"Now, father, give me a leg up; I will help myself up with the cord; onceastride on the wall, I can easily turn the hook and get down into thegarden."

The soldier leaned against the wall, and joined his two hands, in thehollow of which his son placed one of his feet, then mounting upon therobust shoulders of his father, he was able, by help of the cord, andsome irregularities in the wall, to reach the top. Unfortunately, thesmith had not perceived that the coping of the wall was strewed withbroken bottles, so that he wounded his knees and hands; but, for fear ofalarming Dagobert, he repressed every exclamation of pain, and replacingthe hook, he glided down the cord to the ground. The door was close by,and he hastened to it; a strong wooden bar had indeed secured it on theinside. This was removed, and the lock was in so bad a state, that itoffered no resistance to a violent effort from Agricola.

The door was opened, and Dagobert entered the garden with Spoil-sport.

"Now," said the soldier to his son, "thanks to you, the worst is over.Here is a means of escape for the poor children, and Mdlle. deCardoville. The thing is now to find them, without accident or delay.Spoil-sport will go before as a scout. Come, my good dog!" addedDagobert, "above all--fair and softly!"

Immediately, the intelligent animal advanced a few steps, sniffing andlistening with the care and caution of a hound searching for the game.

By the half-light of the clouded moon, Dagobert and his son perceivedround them a V-shaped grove of tall trees, at which several paths met.Uncertain which to choose, Agricola said to his father: "Let us take thepath that runs alongside the wall. It will surely lead to somebuilding."

"Right! Let us walk on the strips of grass, instead of through the mud.It will make less noise."

The father and son, preceded by the Siberian dog, kept for some time in awinding path, at no great distance from the wall. They stopped now andthen to listen, or to satisfy themselves, before continuing theiradvance, with regard to the changing aspects of the trees and bushes,which, shaken by the wind, and faintly illumined by the pale light of themoon, often took strange and doubtful forms.

Half-past twelve struck as Agricola and his father reached a large irongate which shut in that part of the garden reserved for the Superior--thesame into which Mother Bunch had intruded herself, after seeing RoseSimon converse with Adrienne de Cardoville.

Through the bars of this gate, Agricola and his father perceived at alittle distance an open paling, which joined a half-finished chapel, andbeyond it a little square building.

"That is no doubt the building occupied by Mdlle. de Cardoville," saidAgricola.

"And the building which contains the chambers of Rose and Blanche, butwhich we cannot see from here, is no doubt opposite it," said Dagobert."Poor children! they are there, weeping tears of despair," added he, withprofound emotion.

"Provided the gate be but open," said Agricola.

"It will probably be so--being within the walls."

"Let us go on gently."

The gate was only fastened by the catch of the lock. Dagobert was aboutto open it, when Agricola said to him: "Take care! do not make it creakon its hinges."

"Shall I push it slowly or suddenly?"

"Let me manage it," said Agricola; and he opened the gate so quickly,that it creaked very little; still the noise might have been plainlyheard, in the silence of the night, during one of the lulls between thesqualls of wind.

Agricola and his father remained motionless for a moment, listeninguneasily, before they ventured to pass through the gate. Nothingstirred, however; all remained calm and still. With fresh courage, theyentered the reserved garden.

Hardly had the dog arrived on this spot, when he exhibited tokens ofextraordinary delight. Picking up his ears, wagging his tail, boundingrather than running, he had soon reached the paling where, in themorning, Rose Simon had for a moment conversed with Mdlle. de Cardoville.He stopped an instant at this place, as if at fault, and turned round andround like a dog seeking the scent.

Dagobert and his son, leaving Spoil-sport to his instinct, followed hisleast movements with intense interest, hoping everything from hisintelligence and his attachment to the orphans.

"It was no doubt near this paling that Rose stood when Mother Bunch sawher," said Dagobert. "Spoil-sport is on her track. Let him alone."

After a few seconds, the dog turned his head towards Dagobert, andstarted at full trot in the direction of a door on the ground-floor of abuilding, opposite to that occupied by Adrienne. Arrived at this door,the dog lay down, seemingly waiting for Dagobert.

"No doubt of it! the children are there!" said Dagobert, hastening torejoin Spoil-sport; it was by this door that they took Rose into thehouse."

"We must see if the windows are grated," said Agricola, following hisfather.

"Well, old fellow!" whispered the soldier, as he came up to the dog andpointed to the building, "are Rose and Blanche there?"

The dog lifted his head, and answered by a joyful bark. Dagobert hadjust time to seize the mouth of the animal with his hands.

"No," said Dagobert. "But there is no longer any doubt--the children arehere."

At this instant, the iron gate, by which the soldier and his son hadentered the reserved garden, and which they had left open, fell to with aloud noise.

"They've shut us in," said Agricola, hastily; "and there is no otherissue."

For a moment, the father and son looked in dismay at each other; butAgricola instantly resumed: "The gate has perhaps shut of itself. I willmake haste to assure myself of this, and to open it again if possible."

"Go quickly; I will examine the windows."

Agricola flew towards the gate, whilst Dagobert, gliding along the wall,soon reached the windows on the ground floor. They were four in number,and two of them were not grated. He looked up at the first story; it wasnot very far from the ground, and none of the windows had bars. It wouldthen be easy for that one of the two sisters, who inhabited this story,once informed of their presence, to let herself down by means of a sheet,as the orphans had already done to escape from the inn of the WhiteFalcon. But the difficult thing was to know which room she occupied.Dagobert thought they might learn this from the sister on the groundfloor; but then there was another difficulty--at which of the fourwindows should they knock?

Agricola returned precipitately. "It was the wind, no doubt, which shutthe gate," said he. "I have opened it again, and made it fast with astone. But we have no time to lose."

"And how shall we know the windows of the poor children?" said Dagobert,anxiously.

"That is true," said Agricola, with uneasiness. "What is to be done?"

"To call them at hap-hazard," continued Dagobert, "would be to give thealarm."

"Oh, heavens!" cried Agricola, with increasing anguish. "To have arrivedhere, under their windows, and yet not to know!"

"I will call out loud, 'Rose and Blanche'--in their state of despair, Iam sure they do not sleep. They will be stirring at my first summons.By means of a sheet, fastened to the window, she who is on the firststory will in five minutes be in our arms. As for the one on the groundfloor--if her window is not grated, we can have her in a second. If itis, we shall soon loosen one of the bars."

"But, father--this calling out aloud?"

"Will not perhaps be heard."

"But if it is heard--all will be lost."

"Who knows? Before they have time to call the watch, and open severaldoors, the children may be delivered. Once at the entrance of theboulevard, and we shall be safe."

"It is a dangerous course; but I see no other."

"If there are only two men, I and Spoil-sport will keep them in check,while you will have time to carry off the children."

"Father, there is a better way--a surer one," cried Agricola, suddenly."From what Mother Bunch told us, Mdlle. de Cardoville has corresponded bysigns with Rose and Blanche."

"Yes."

"Hence she knows where they are lodged, as the poor children answered herfrom their windows."

"You are right. There is only that course to take. But how find herroom?"

"Mother Bunch told me there was a shade over the window."

"Quick! we have only to break through a wooden fence. Have you the ironbar?"

"Here it is."

"Then, quick!"

In a few steps, Dagobert and his son had reached the paling. Threeplanks, torn away by Agricola, opened an easy passage.

"Remain here, father, and keep watch," said he to Dagobert, as he enteredDr. Baleinier's garden.

The indicated window was easily recognized. It was high and broad; asort of shade surmounted it, for this window had once been a door, sincewalled in to the third of its height. It was protected by bars of iron,pretty far apart. Since some minutes, the rain had ceased. The moon,breaking through the clouds, shone full upon the building. Agricola,approaching the window, saw that the room was perfectly dark; but lightcame from a room beyond, through a door left half open. The smith,hoping that Mdlle. de Cardoville might be still awake, tapped lightly atthe window. Soon after, the door in the background opened entirely, andMdlle. de Cardoville, who had not yet gone to bed, came from the otherchamber, dressed as she had been at her interview with Mother Bunch. Hercharming features were visible by the light of the taper she held in herhand. Their present expression was that of surprise and anxiety. Theyoung girl set down the candlestick on the table, and appeared to listenattentively as she approached the window. Suddenly she started andstopped abruptly. She had just discerned the face of a man, looking ather through the window. Agricola, fearing that Mdlle. de Cardovillewould retire in terror to the next room, again tapped on the glass, andrunning the risk of being heard by others, said in a pretty loud voice:"It is Agricola Baudoin."

These words reached the ears of Adrienne. Instantly remembering herinterview with Mother Bunch, she thought that Agricola and Dagobert musthave entered the convent for the purpose of carrying off Rose andBlanche. She ran to the window, recognized Agricola in the clearmoonlight, and cautiously opened the casement.

"Madame," said the smith, hastily; "there is not an instant to lose. TheCount de Montbron is not in Paris. My father and myself have come todeliver you."

"Thanks, thanks, M. Agricola!" said Mdlle. de Cardoville, in a toneexpressive of the most touching gratitude; "but think first of thedaughters of General Simon."

"We do think of them, madame, I have come to ask you which are theirwindows."

"One is on the ground floor, the last on the garden-side; the other isexactly over it, on the first story."

"Then they are saved!" cried the smith.

"But let me see!" resumed Adrienne, hastily; "the first story is prettyhigh. You will find, near the chapel they are building, some long polesbelonging to the scaffolding. They may be of use to you."

"They will be as good as a ladder, to reach the upstairs window. But nowto think of you madame."

"Think only of the dear orphans. Time presses. Provided they aredelivered to-night, it makes little difference to me to remain a day ortwo longer in this house." "No, mademoiselle," cried the smith, "it isof the first importance that you should leave this place to-night.Interests are concerned, of which you know nothing. I am now sure ofit."

"What do you mean?"

"I have not time to explain myself further; but I conjure you madame, tocome. I can wrench out two of these bars; I will fetch a piece of iron."

"It is not necessary. They are satisfied with locking the outer door ofthis building, which I inhabit alone. You can easily break open thelock."

"And, in ten minutes, we shall be on the boulevard," said the smith."Make yourself ready, madame; take a shawl, a bonnet, for the night iscold. I will return instantly."

"M. Agricola," said Adrienne, with tears in her eyes, "I know what yourisk for my sake. I shall prove to you, I hope, that I have as good amemory as you have. You and your adopted sister are noble and valiantcreatures, and I am proud to be indebted to you. But do not return forme till the daughters of Marshal Simon are in safety."

"Thanks to your directions, the thing will be done directly, madame. Ifly to rejoin my father, and we will come together to fetch you."

Following the excellent advice of Mdlle. de Cardoville, Agricola took oneof the long, strong poles that rested against the wall of the chapel,and, bearing it on his robust shoulders, hastened to rejoin his father.Hardly had Agricola passed the fence, to direct his steps towards thechapel, obscured in shadow, than Mdlle. de Cardoville thought sheperceived a human form issue from one of the clumps of trees in theconvent-garden, cross the path hastily, and disappear behind a high hedgeof box. Alarmed at the sight, Adrienne in vain called to Agricola in alow voice, to bid him beware. He could not hear her; he had alreadyrejoined his father, who, devoured by impatience, went from window towindow with ever-increasing anguish.

"We are saved," whispered Agricola. "Those are the windows of the poorchildren--one on the ground floor, the other on the first story."

"At last!" said Dagobert, with a burst of joy impossible to describe. Heran to examine the windows. "They are not grated!" he exclaimed.

"Let us make sure, that one of them is there," said Agricola; "then, byplacing this pole against the wall, I will climb up to the first story,which is not so very high."

"Right, my boy!--once there, tap at the window, and call Rose or Blanche.When she answers, come down. We will rest the pole against the window,and the poor child will slide along it. They are bold and active.Quick, quick! to work!"

"And then we will deliver Mdlle. de Cardoville."

Whilst Agricola placed his pole against the wall, and prepares to mount,Dagobert tapped at the panes of the last window on the ground floor, andsaid aloud: "It is I--Dagobert."

Rose Simon indeed occupied the chamber. The unhappy child, in despair atbeing separated from her sister, was a prey to a burning fever, and,unable to sleep, watered her pillow with her tears. At the sound of thetapping on the glass, she started up affrighted, then, hearing the voiceof the soldier--that voice so familiar and so dear--she sat up in bed,pressed her hands across her forehead, to assure herself that she was notthe plaything of a dream, and, wrapped in her long night-dress, ran tothe window with a cry of joy. But suddenly--and before she could openthe casement--two reports of fire-arms were heard, accompanied by loudcries of "Help! thieves!

The orphan stood petrified with terror, her eyes mechanically fixed uponthe window, through which she saw confusedly, by the light of the moon,several men engaged in a mortal struggle, whilst the furious barking ofSpoil-sport was heard above all the incessant cries of "Help! Help!Thieves! Murder!"